Chapter Four
Daellin slowly lifted his head, closed his tome of prayers, and placed his bare hand on the forehead of the deceased. The body was that of an aged lumberman that participated in the previous day's battle between rioters and the Alliance forces. Cause of death was a sword that made a mess of his entrails. However, to Daellin, cause of death was senseless violence that was still mostly unexplained. Fighting back any visible emotion besides stoicism, the knight trudged away from the bed. He left not just the resting lumberman but his grieving wife on the opposite side of the bed. The sound of sobbing followed Daellin no matter how far he could walk away.
The paladin walked to the middle of the makeshift medical bay of one of Tyr's Hand's churchs. It was poorly lit by candles that created flickering shadows. Most of the shadows were still, as still as the injured and dead that lined both sides of the corridor in makeshift hospital beds. This particular wing was filled with only commoners, while the few injured guards and soldiers were kept to another church. While it was not Daellin's idea to keep the two sides separated, he knew it was for the best. The last thing anyone needed was families seeing the soldiers that struck down their loved ones.
With the low murmur of the injured moaning in pain and agony, the Silver Hand paladins under Daellin's command did their best to aid the injured. Some were able to use the Holy Light to mend the physical and mental wounds. However, many were not skilled in the Light's healing-craft, so they could only apply wound dressing, stem any bleeding, and provide words of support until Daellin or another skilled paladin could heal their wounds. A few local priests from the city also came in to heal the injured or provide last rites and then leave without saying much to the knights. Nevertheless, the assistance was greatly appreciated.
From the other side of the corridor, Daellin's second-in-command Nolan walked over. "Sir, the Silver Hand regiment led by Lord Uther has arrived," Nolan told his superior, no louder than a murmur. "He is in a meeting with the local defense force regarding the encroaching greenskins."
Of course the Tyr's soldiers would get to him first. "Very well. Go get some rest, friend," Daellin instructed. Nolan, his eyes just as exhausted as his commander's, saluted, then left for his assigned living quarters in another wing of the church. While walking, Nolan relented from his erect stature with his shoulders collapsing as low as they could and his feet dragged on the floor like a leper. While the lieutenant was known for his rigid form, for once Nolan showed signs of lethargy. Daellin, now alone in the middle of a makeshift medical bay, stood by himself to collect his thoughts.
What kind of hell has this been? I feel the Light crying out in pain from the loss of life from this damned mess. We are supposed to be fighting together against the orcs! Not against one another! How the hell did it even get to this point? So many questions that need to be answered... But will there be time to uncover everything? The greenskins are knocking on our door and soon we will have to dedicate all strength to fight them back. Daellin looked over the few dozen cots. If it were not for the endless hours spent studying on how to maintain his composure under the hardest circumstances, waves of frustration and anger would have grown over his face. He pushed away his human emotions, reminding himself to stay strong in the face of adversity. The last thing the grieving families needed was seeing a paladin lose his composure.
"Um, excuse me, sir," a weak voice behind Daellin whispered.
The Silver Hand paladin turned around to see the top of a lady's bowed head. Her face was not visible as it was dug deep into her chest. "Yes, how may I help?" Daellin answered. He noted that even if her face was up and her back fully erect, she would only come up to his abdomen. Physically he was tall but inside he felt never smaller.
The lady, dressed in a simple black lace summer dress, slowly lifted her head to meet Daellin's gaze. Much like many others in the hallway, her face was red and tear stained. "I...I just want to...I want to thank you...for yesterday..." she stammered. Her voice was strained and it took much effort for her to produce any audible sound.
Since the peasant's rebellion was forcefully put down and the injured were taken to this church, Daellin had heard a few pieces of similar gratitude from the townsfolk. While the gestures were well intentioned, it did little in terms of saving more lives or erasing the fact a battle between men took place when the tides of darkness were on their doorstep. Nevertheless, Daellin was no monster and accepted such gestures.
"Of course, madam," Daellin replied politely as his eyes scanned the woman's face. She appeared fairly young, certainly younger than the paladin. The longer he looked at this young lady, the more it dawned on him that she seemed familiar. It nagged at the back of his head until it hit him all at once. She was the numb and terribly injured woman he healed during combat the previous day. His pupils narrowed and blood raced from his face as shock flowed through his entire body as he made this revelation. During the chaos of battle, he did not have the opportunity to take a long look at the person he saved; his only goal was to save her life and get her away from the bloodshed. It pained him to see that she was barely past childhood. The paladin brought himself down to her level while maintaining a respectful distance. "I had no idea it was you... I am so sorry," he apologized, but for what he was not sure.
The young woman shook her head slowly and replied, "Don't be. Being sorry won't bring back those that died. Being sorry won't bring my father back." She choked on her last words as she turned her attention to one of the cots. The blood stained sheets were fully pulled over a rather large body in the bed, with a few rose petals placed on the silhouette's head and chest. While most other sheets covered the entirety of the deceased, the exposed feet of this man peaked out at the bottom and dangled over the ledge of the cot. The paladin was well aware who was under those covers. The young lady turned back to Daellin with a new stream of tears cascading from her eyes. The paladin understood.
Daellin wiped away some of the tears on her face, yet more rained down. It was a losing battle. He mustered the strength to ask, "May I ask you your name, ma'am?"
"Rachael. It is Rachael,"
"Rachael," Daellin started before deciding on the words to follow. It felt odd to give formalities and pleasantries in a situation and place like this. Instead, he simply went with, "I'm Daellin. If there is anything I can do, please ask."
Rachael nodded understandingly. "The town has heard of you and your order's actions. How you ordered them to not hurt people. How you helped them..."
"I am glad to hear." Daellin wanted to ask the adolescent so many questions as it related to the events preceding the riot. The conflicting information given by the Tyr's Hand guards and the locals moments prior to the massacre stabbed at the back of his head profusely. Of course, he anticipated a young woman, not much older than a school girl, would not know many details. He broke his direct eye contact by examining the details of his guest, noting her tattered blonde hair and smudge marks across her cheeks and nose. "Rachael, may I ask you something? If you don't know or don't want to answer that's perfectly fine."
Rachael nodded without uttering a word. Daellin looked to his left, then his right, to make sure that nobody was near them. He lowered his voice and asked, "Why did Tyr's rebel? What caused...everything?" He understood the weight of the question was maybe too much for one person to explain, yet he desired to at least start somewhere in his quest for answers.
Rachael did not answer immediately. She lowered her head, stared at her feet for a few moments, then glanced to her left and right, mimicking what Daellin did. Suddenly, she leapt at Daellin, arms stretching around his body in the most spontaneous hug imaginable. She loudly cried and heaved in Daellin's chest. The paladin was startled by this sudden display of emotion and awkwardly wrapped his arms around Rachael. This hug was far from the kind of joyous embrace comrades gave to celebrate a victory or the kind that you return to your doting mother. He even patted the top of her head like he would with the dogs of Andorhal when he was a child. "All I know," Rachael whispered, suddenly devoid of any sorrow, "is what dad told me. He said that we were being used by the Alliance before they would abandon us to the orcs."
Daellin scrunched his eyebrows by what he was told but did not let go of Rachael. Her statement was reminiscent of what the giant miner said the previous day. He rubbed her back and gave a few pats. "Why would he think that?" he asked quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he scanned to make sure that no one was looking in their direction. Thankfully, those in the hall were too busy tending to the injured, praying that their loved ones would heal, or dead.
In between feigned sobs, Rachael continued, "He said that some Hillsbrad farmers came and held a meeting with a few of our leaders." While in Daellin's chest, she nuzzled her head so that she could see off to the side of the paladin, no doubt scanning for any onlookers. Content with what she saw, she continued, "Dad was there. He said the Hillsbrad men were betrayed by the Alliance before the orcs destroyed their entire town. They said our only hope would be to cut our dependence on the army and prepare ourselves."
Daellin stood there, staring off into the distance, digesting what he was just told. There had been no mention about a meeting between Hillsbrad farmers and the local laborers from either the courier or the captain of the guard. If what she says is true, then what that man said on the street… Of course this could all be an exaggeration or an outright lie...
"Where did these farmers go?"
Rachael melted away from the paladin. Her red face had simmered but her tear stains remained. "I do not know, sir," she stated. With only silence in the air, she then began to walk away from the knight and added, "Thank you again, Lord Daellin. If you need anything else, sir, I will be around. Have a blessed day." With those last words, she turned the corner and was out of sight before Daellin could even ask another question or say goodbye. She was gone as soon as she appeared.
Daellin's gaze lingered at the corner where Rachael disappeared from view for a few seconds. He could not tell if she had more to say on the matter or if that was truly all she knew. Nevertheless, at least he had something to work with. This needs to be investigated. Things are not adding up. Uther needs to know about this... Daellin's head pounded as he walked toward the main doorway that led outside. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not notice the Tyr's guard blocking his path. Startled, Daellin could only see his eyes through the helmet visor.
"Sir Daellin?"
"That would be me."
"Your order's master and Captain Valdelmar have concluded their meeting. Your presence is requested in the town square by the fountain," the guard announced, saluted, and left before Daellin could confirm his attendance. No doubt, the guard would rather be anywhere else than the commoner medical bay. While Daellin was still processing what Rachael had told him and the sorrow of the previous day's events, he looked forward to seeing Uther. He had not seen his mentor since Uther left Stratholme a few months ago for the frontlines of Hillsbrad. A reunion was in order.
On a beautiful summer day, the city of Tyr's Hand would normally be bustling with activity. Trade would be occurring all along the streets, while children would run all around causing havoc and mayhem without schooling to restrain them. However, this day the city was barren and devoid of activity. Daellin, resting on the town square's fountain, observed only a few citizens roaming the streets. Most of the citizenry had taken shelter in their homes, refusing to do business or run errands. The paladin understood. During his time sitting on the fountain, he noted that the few souls brave enough to venture outside would give him a pleasant glance or nod. However, when they saw an Alliance soldier or Tyr's Hand guard, their face turned sour.
While he was anticipating his reunion with Uther to be fairly soon after he was, he had spent the better part of an hour waiting in his libram. During this time, Daellin's tried his best to move his thoughts away from recent events. Cleanse the mind... He thought how different city life in Tyr's Hand was compared to his experience in Andorhal. The grain capital of the kingdom was always busy, with sights to see and people to watch. As a little farm boy, Daellin would go out of his way to see foreign individuals from all over Azeroth and watch their interactions. He, Ahran, and other childhood friends would play tag in the streets and conduct the occasional theft of sweets. As they grew older, their interests drew away from tag and to more primal urges. However, nothing of the sort was happening in the streets of Tyr's Hand today. No persons from foreign lands, no youthful debauchery.
Behind the fountain, the gates of the city's grand keep swung open and a few Alliance guards and Silver Hand paladins spilled out. Among them, Daellin spotted Captain Valdelmar, the man that was hellbent on squashing the rebellion, discussing with Uther. Valdelmar was doing most of the talking with his words and hands, with Uther only occasionally nodding. The entourage made it down the steps and onto the street in front of the fountain. The two superior officers of their respected units shook hands, then parted. While Valdelmar and his Alliance soldiers hurried back to the keep, as if they had targets painted on their backs, Uther and his paladins walked towards the fountain.
Daellin shot up and ran towards his kin and mentor. He knelt down on one knee and lowered his head. "Sir Uther, I am at your service," Daellin said.
Uther chuckled, "Get up Daellin, this isn't paladin school back in Stratholme."
Daellin stood up with a half-smile. Uther walked towards his former pupil and held out his gauntleted hand. The plate glistened in the sun and displayed the head of a blue lion. The former student shook his hand, noting how the cold steel felt on his bare hand. "It's good to see you, Uther."
"Likewise, friend. I know it has been a challenging few months for you," Uther replied. The head of the Silver Hand turned back to his group of paladins and told them, "Like we discussed, Sir Josiah and Lady Catherine are to go to the residential district and aid the citizens in any way possible. The rest of you, mount up and search the city perimeter. Report back to me if you find anything." With his command set, the paladins saluted their leader and left. Uther and Daellin waited for all the paladins to be away before continuing.
"Uther, I have so much to tell you," Daellin started but Uther raised his hand. Out of habit, the younger paladin stopped and straightened up.
"In due time friend, but first, let's take a walk," Uther replied as he took a few steps towards the entry gate of Tyr's Hand. Daellin, still eager to tell his mentor everything he had seen and heard over the last few days, followed step for step. It was eerily reminiscent to his days as a paladin aspirant, following the larger than life paladin as they marched through the forests of Lordaeron for training and conditioning. The two did not say a word as buildings passed by. Uther looked around, taking in the glory that was Tyr's Hand. Daellin politely followed suit.
"It's no Stratholme, that's for sure," Uther remarked. "They'll never take the title of crown jewel of the east from it anytime soon."
"It lacks the simplicity of Andorhal, as well," Daellin added.
"Aye. That being said, there is something to be admired about a strong bastion like Tyr's being held together by the will of the people. These are truly remarkable people…" Uther trailed off as he continued to admire the buildings and the few individuals that walked the streets. A few brave souls bowed their heads to the Lord Paladin with Uther returning the pleasantries. It was like the paladin radiated an aura of peace and tranquility that this city had been lacking.
Out of the blue, Uther asked, "When was the last time you heard from Ahran?"
Daellin had to think about it for a moment. His close friend being brought up in conversation was not what the paladin was expecting. "Not since when we were deployed to the field from Stratholme. Not much time to write letters, as you can imagine..."
"Aye, you're right. Well, I heard from others that he fought valiantly on the frontlines," his words lingered and had a hint of sorrow. The silence made Daellin's heart stop and his eyes grew large. Uther snapped, "Oh, he's perfectly fine, lad! He's currently in the rearguard awaiting further orders."
Daellin sighed a breath of relief. Sweat had already formed around his forehead and his heart was moments away from popping out of his chest. "That's good. What I'd do to see him take on those damned orcs? All I can think about were those times he would trip over and fall in sparring matches." A few short chuckles escaped Daellin's mouth. Perhaps the first he laughed in weeks. Months?
Uther did not respond to this thought, which surprised Daellin as the head paladin was often the reason for Ahran tripping. Instead, he continued leading the two down the street until the gate was only a stone's throw away. The impressive white gate stood tall, a testament to the famed stone masons of Lordaeron. Within the mouth of the gate, Daellin could make out the outline of several individuals on horseback riding off in the distance, no doubt the paladins that Uther had sent out. While Daellin was looking off into the distance, Uther broke the silence. "I sense much pain in you, friend. Your heart is heavy," he said.
Daellin nodded and calmly replied, "Yes, sir. The last few days have been... horrific and it's hard to take my mind off of it."
Uther placed his hand on Daellin's shoulder. Despite his large gauntlet, the touch was light as a feather. Not too long ago, the renowned paladin would be wrapping this shoulder in bandages from an injury sustained during their combat training. Now, instead of a physical wrapping, he could only provide the protection of his words. "It's been hard for us all, lad. The battlefield tends to linger in one's mind," he said.
Daellin raised his heels, like a boy begging for a cookie, and replied, "But that is the thing, sir. All I can think about is...is the blood…" Daellin trailed off as he looked back to the gate. He couldn't help but think how Ahran must have been having a far better experience in war than he was. It must be easier slaying barbaric demons than your fellow man. Inside, he knew the words he wanted to say but he was unsure how his mentor would receive them. Despite this anxiety, he stated, "I have prayed and asked the Light for guidance and I have found little."
Uther sighed and nodded understandingly. He removed his hand from Daellin's shoulder to reach for his hip satchel. From the stachel he pulled out his famed libram, held it up for Daellin to see, and raised a questioning eyebrow. The distressed paladin understood the mute direction and pulled out his own holy book. "Have you been writing, lad?" Uther asked.
Daellin opened his libram to the most recent page to prove he had. There were entries of his trek towards Tyr's Hand on the left page. On the right page, a single entry was written. Uther pointed to that entry for Daellin to read, which he did, "Journal Entry Twenty-Three, Monday Evening: May the Light embrace the fallen that now take up your warmth. May the Light shield those that remain in pain. My mortal eyes weep in seeing the wanton violence among countrymen. I never in my wildest dreams thought the situation would unravel into killing. Through this hell, I still remain committed to my calling. I am sworn to protect my people under the Light. I will continue to do so."
Uther had been taking in what Daellin said, reeling his head back with closed eyes to take in the words of determined faith. "And from that, what wisdom have you achieved?" His words carried a sense of compassion, yet stern to get his question across.
Daellin read through the entry again in his head, making sure what he said would be up to Uther's standards. The last thing he needed right now was a reprimand like when he was a student. "Even in our darkest hour, the Light will be there to guide and protect us," he affirmed.
This pleased Uther enough to grant Daellin a smile. "That it does, that it does. You best remember that," Uther noted, lessening his furrowed brows. Suddenly, he broke out into stride. Instead of towards the now closed gate, he walked towards the horse stables off to the side of the gates. By now, the sun had fallen behind the gate, creating long shadows that stretched throughout the city. With Daellin barely keeping up with Uther's pace, the elder paladin asked, "Was there anything else you wish to discuss?"
Daellin made sure that there was no one else in earshot before he started. "During yesterday's conflict, the commoners said that a local guard killed a few locals in their sleep, then presented the corpse of a dead guard. The captain, nor anyone else, spoke of any murders or a missing guard or anything of the sort," Daellin explained in a single breath. Uther rubbed his chin hair as he listened, clearly perplexed.
"Did the rioters present any evidence of the murders?"
"No, sir. Only their word." Daellin shifted in his feet and briefly glanced away from his mentor.
"And what of this dead guard? Did you verify the identity?"
"No, sir. The local guard took the body away without question." Daellin's mouth was held agape, encouraging the thoughts in his head to escape. However, nothing came out.
Uther raised a thick and burly eyebrow. "There's more you want to say."
Daellin inhaled, then continued, "Yes. I spoke with a local. She said that the commoners were convinced by some Hillsbrad farmers that the Alliance would abuse and abandon the city like it had done with their town. According to this local, this sparked the people to rise up against the local soldiers." He made sure to not give as many details about Rachael or her deceased father.
Uther's chin rubbing grew more intense to the point that Daellin feared he would sand it right off. "I was at Hillsbrad and I can guarantee you that nothing of the sort happened. No town was abandoned under the Alliance's watch. Do you have any leads on these farmers? Where or who they are?"
Daellin shook his head disappointedly and replied, "That's all I know, sir. But in my heart of hearts I know that this is something we need to investigate."
Uther thought over what his pupil told him. He could tell the whole ordeal troubled Daellin deeply. Uncertainty was starting to grow in him as well, despite being the more even-keeled of the two. After a few moments of mauling it over, he told Daellin, "While this can all be hearsay and exaggeration, I will certainly look into this. Of course, this will be a matter for the Alliance command more so than the Silver Hand. My first haunch is that someone, somewhere is using the chaos of war to their advantage and that must be dealt with to the fullest extent."
Daellin breathed a sigh of relief knowing that Uther took his word seriously. However, he did feel a little uneasy knowing that Uther would be going to the Alliance as opposed to keeping it within the Silver Hand. He kept thinking back to how the Tyr's Hand soldiers effortlessly killed the commoners. "Thank you, sir. That definitely lifts my heart knowing something will come of this," he told Uther, all the while images of Alliance soldiers easily dispatching commoners rushed through his head. He was so distracted that he did not notice that Uther was already at the stables.
The stables, large in size to serve the demands of the great city, were mostly empty as the paladins and Alliance forces were currently riding. Daellin figured that the horses would be pushed to their limits and would not return until well past dusk. While most of the horses were gone, the unmistakable stench was still present. Both paladins did not flinch at the smell, as they were well accustomed to the odor, especially for Daellin after spending so many years in Andorhal. Daellin carefully asked, "What now, sir? What's the battle plan?" Still, his mentor did not reveal anything from his actions or words. It was always difficult to get a good read on his mentor.
Uther chuckled lightly but he must have taken a bit of the stench into his mouth as he gagged a little. He shook it off before replying, "We have a war to fight, lad." He then turned back to the stables, pressed two fingers to his lips, and whistled; an impressive act as his plate gauntlets were still on and he just had a waff of manure go into his mouth. A series of horse clops answered the whistle from inside the stable before a pure black stallion emerged against the wooden fencing. The color of its reins and saddle matched the dark sheen, creating a dark silhouette that almost blended in the dusk. Uther smiled, removed his gauntlet, then patted the horse's nose bridge. The beast whinnied in playful enjoyment.
While petting the horse, Uther said, "I agreed with Captain Valdelmar that the Silver Hand will remain here for a few days to restore order and tend to the injured. Then, we will head out and join the frontlines. Word from the front is that the tide is turning in our favor." The knight stopped in his thought and added, "I will personally look into what you have told me. As for you," Uther stopped as he reached into yet another side satchel and pulled out a red apple, "you are to head to the frontlines immediately. Can't let Ahran get all the glory, yeah?" Uther then tossed the apple to Daellin. "There's armor waiting for him in the stables. Oh, and his name is Glory."
Daellin's eyes lit up with excitement. He had not ridden a horse in quite some time. He eagerly raised the apple to Glory. The stallion eyed the apple, then to the paladin, suspiciously. Suddenly, Glory lunged his head across the wooden beam for the fruit, nearly taking Daellin's outstretched hand with it. The horse gleefully ate the apple, spewing uneaten chunks to the ground like a toddler at supper. After devouring the fruit, Glory turned his attention to Daellin, seemingly demanding another apple. The paladin, empty handed, reached out to pet his new companion. To his surprise, Glory snapped at Daellin's hand, expecting another snack but quickly reared his head back just before chomping off a finger. The horse trotted a few paces away, then sneezed, sending mucus all over Daellin's exposed hand. Daellin cringed as he tried to flick the mucus away. Uther bursted into laughter while Glory bounced his head up and down, almost to indicate he was laughing as well. After struggling with his messy hand, Daellin joined his friends in laughter.
As the last remements of the sun's rays were blocked by Tyr's walls, the laughter ushered in the darkness of evening.